


Getting the Job Done

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Happy Ending, M/M, Top Sam Winchester, dubcon elements, tied-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: Sam ties Dean to a bed. It’s for his own good.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 178
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	Getting the Job Done

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SPN-Masquerade](https://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/10986.html) prompt:
> 
> _Dean wakes to find himself naked with Sam tying him face down to his bed._
> 
> Originally posted [here.](https://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/10986.html?thread=3910890#t3910890)

“Sam? What the fuck?”

He strains ineffectively against the silk cords binding his wrists and ankles, spread-eagled and face down on his own bed in the bunker.

“You’ll thank me later,” Sam grunts as he pulls on the cord holding Dean’s left wrist. The kid took the time to wrap his wrists and ankles with medical tape, presumably to minimize abrasions.

Which means he planned this. Which means Sam intends for Dean to stay tied down long enough that he might hurt himself trying to break free.

Dean bucks up, cranes his neck around so he can look over his shoulder as Sam backs off the bed, giving his ankle bindings one last satisfying tug.

“What the hell’s going on, Sam?” Dean puts as much big-brother gruffness as possible into his tone, willing Sam to answer, willing himself not to panic. “Why’re you doing this?”

Sam glances up, winces when he meets Dean’s gaze, looks away again. “You don’t remember what happened, do you?”

“Remember what? What the hell happened?”

“The succubus,” Sam says. “The one we were hunting last night.”

“Succubus?” Dean demands. “What succubus?” A vague memory tickles his brain, a man in skin-tight jeans and a black t-shirt stretched across his muscled chest, smirking at Dean with that come-hither look Dean had seen on too many faces over the course of his adult life.

Spitting into Dean’s open mouth...

“The lore says there’s only one cure for this type of succubus venom,” Sam says. “And you’re not going to like it.”

“What?” Dean squeaks, voice rising in panic. “Being tied to a bed till I piss myself?”

“No.” Sam huffs out a breath. “Just until you’ve had sex with someone who secretly desires you. Somebody you’d never have sex with willingly. Someone you love.”

Dean stops trying to wrestle free for a moment as he takes in Sam’s words.

“Well _that’s_ specific,” he growls finally. He cranes his head back over his shoulder. Sam’s undressing, fingers trembling a little as he unbuttons his shirt. “Wait, _now_?”

“Need to break the curse, Dean,” Sam mumbles, not looking at him. Well, not looking at his _face_ , anyway. Sam’s gaze is fixed somewhere below Dean’s waist, like he’s working himself up for what he has to do next. “Gotta break the curse before it kills you.”

“By fucking me,” Dean half-shouts, renewing his struggles to break free of his bonds, as futile as that may be. “You’re seriously going to do this.”

“Have to, Dean,” Sam pants. “No choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Sam!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam mutters, panting. “I’ll make it as comfortable for you as I can, I promise. Then we can forget it ever happened.”

“Oh sure! We’re going to commit incest and then just go on with our lives!” Dean shouts. “You don’t just forget something like this, Sam! You don’t just go on with life afterwards like nothing happened!”

“Yes, you can,” Sam insists. “Yes, you can. I did. You did. We can survive this.”

It takes Dean a moment to catch up. Then he gets Sam’s meaning.

“This isn’t rape, Sam! You’re not raping me!”

Sam swallows, takes a deep breath, and reaches for the lube.

“Just doing what I have to, Dean,” he mutters as he slicks up his fingers. He’s naked now, big muscles clenching and unclenching with tension. His gigantic cock is fully erect, pointing at Dean, getting harder as he starts to stroke it, spreading the lube all over it.

“Sam, listen to me!” The butterflies in Dean’s stomach have butterflies. He’s beyond panicked now, wildly straining against his bindings. “You don’t have to do this!”

The bed dips as Sam climbs onto it, between Dean’s spread and tied legs. Dean starts as Sam’s big hand lands on his hip.

“Yes, I do,” Sam gasps. His voice sounds wrecked. “I’m sorry, Dean. I wish there was another way...”

“There’s always another way!” Dean shouts.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Sam says, his voice choked and broken. He’s on the verge of tears, but he’s as stubborn and determined as he’s ever been. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam!” Dean screams as Sam’s fingers push between his butt-cheeks. “Stop!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam murmurs brokenly, like a mantra.

“Wait! Damn it, Sam, will you just wait a minute!” Dean wiggles away but he can’t go far. As Sam’s fingers find his hole, Dean screams, “Son of a bitch!”

Sam’s relentless, reciting his apologies over and over as he pushes one finger past Dean’s rim, gets his other hand under Dean’s balls until he can reach Dean’s cock.

Dean wiggles frantically, desperate to hide his raging hard-on. He hears the gasp the moment Sam gets his hand on it, realizes how turned on Dean really is.

“Dean?” Sam hesitates, pulls his hand back like he’s been shocked.

Dean’s face burns. He tries to hide his face in the pillow as Sam leans down, tries to catch his eye. 

“Told you this isn’t rape,” Dean growls. “I want you, too, you gigantic dufus!”

“You — “ Sam’s flustered. “You mean, if I let you go, you’ll let me do this — willingly?”

Dean flushes hotter. “What part of ‘I want you, too’ did you not understand, Sam?”

“Jesus,” Sam breathes, reaching for the bindings on Dean’s ankles to loosen them. “I never knew. I mean, I thought — I can’t believe I almost did that to you. I could’ve never lived with myself! Jesus!”

“Leave ‘em,” Dean commands as Sam reaches for the bindings on his wrists.

“What — “ Sam hesitates, so Dean gets his knees up under him, shoves his ass into the air. “Oh.”

It’s a little awkward with Dean’s arms spread, still tied to the bed posts, but it’s hotter than anything Dean’s ever experienced, so. Sam takes too much time to open him up, sprinkling kisses over his shoulders and whispering praise and endearments into his skin, and Dean almost wishes they could do this face to face, since it’s their first time.

But when Sam’s finally inside him, it’s all worth it. The kid finally can’t control himself, finally stops being all mushy and apologetic. Dean grunts approvingly as Sam just loses it, pumping into him with all the wild abandon Dean could have hoped for. Sam’s a powerhouse, a machine, driving into Dean’s body like a piston, cursing like a sailor, coming hard and long a moment after Dean.

They collapse together afterwards, and for a few moments Dean allows it, too blissed out to notice the wet spot and his aching arms, not to mention Sam’s dead weight on top of him.

When he starts to feel his lungs bursting for air, Dean stirs.

“Get off me!”

“Oh! Of course! Yeah!” Sam babbles, rolling to the side before reaching up to untie Dean’s wrists.

They roll onto their sides, facing each other, out of the wet spot. Dean almost wants to jump up, get away from the hopeful, agonized look on Sam’s face, the look of a man who was willing to rape his brother in order to save him and hates himself for it. A man who fully expected to be hated by the brother he loves, or at least felt that he deserved to be.

But instead of running, Dean’s big-brother instincts take over. He needs Sam to stop beating himself up over this.

“Hey, you did good,” Dean says. “You fixed me.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, shy dimpled smile replacing the other expression, and Dean takes that as a win.

“All the rest of it — “ Dean gives his head a little shake, willing Sam to get his meaning without having to spell it out, but of course Sam’s got a lot of insecurity about this.

“Yeah, of course,” Sam says, face falling, turning away to get off the bed. “None of it means... We can go on like we were, I mean. It’s not a big deal.”

Dean frowns, scrambles up and grabs Sam’s arm, stopping him before he can run, before he can grab his clothes and leave the room and never come back.

Sam pauses, looking down at Dean’s hand, then his face. He’s apprehensive, nervous.

“Let it go, Sam,” Dean says. “We’re okay. Okay? You and me.”

Dean’s not good at expressing his feelings. He needs Sam to understand and accept that right now because yeah, he’s been repressing the extent of his feelings for his brother since forever. And now everything’s changed between them. But also, not so much.

“I always knew you thought I was hot,” Dean tries again. “It’s not that much of a shock, really.”

Sam stares. “It is to me, Dean,” he gasps. “I had no idea!”

Dean frowns, then nods as he gets it. “You mean, you had no idea the feeling was mutual.”

“Well, yeah!”

“Well, now you know,” Dean shrugs, then lifts his index finger and arches an eyebrow. “Just don’t let it go to your head, you hear me? You’re still my pain-in-the-ass little brother, no matter how hot you are.”

Dean can see the moment Sam relaxes, shy smile turning into a self-satisfied smirk, and Dean will definitely need to wipe _that_ look off his brother’s face.

Their first kiss does the trick. The second one makes Dean’s point nice and clear, guarantees Sam never has to wonder about Dean’s feelings ever again.


End file.
